


Unanswered

by acta_est_fabula



Series: Reconciliation [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, I'm sorry not sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:01:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29851566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acta_est_fabula/pseuds/acta_est_fabula
Summary: It wasn’t sadness really he felt towards Tommy’s death--in his “heart of hearts” as the blonde had liked to word it--he had seen this coming a long time ago. Tommy was far too confrontational and aggressive to keep himself out of trouble for very long. And it wasn’t the first death Techno had seen, far from it. If he mourned the death of everybody he’d even remotely cared about, the Blood God’s heart would have fractured and splintered decades ago, before he even came to know Wilbur and Tommy. But there’s just such a bitter, acrid sense of disappointment as he looks upon Tommy’s grave as if the teen should’ve done more, done better, done something to try to cling to life.Is this really the full extent of your determination to live, Theseus?
Relationships: Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: Reconciliation [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2130498
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25





	Unanswered

**Author's Note:**

> So, we're just gonna ignore Tommy's stream today haha because I started this before :). Follow me on Twitter please I need friends [here.](https://twitter.com/Septetz) Feedback is appreciated, I might write a sequel to this if I feel up to it!

Disappointment. 

That’s the closest feeling Techno can place his finger on as he stands outside the ruins of Logstedshire, eyes skimming over the shoddily built mound of dirt and its accompanying hastily constructed cross. Puffy’s messy scrawl on the wooden sign indicates that she’s the one who constructed the memorial, while the red and white flowers scattered around the makeshift gravestone is likely the work of Ranboo. They’re a nice touch for the rather dreary, desolate atmosphere that surrounds him, nearly suffocatingly so.

“Funny how life works out, doesn’t it?” Techno asks himself softly, eyes still transfixed on the stone cross in front of him. Stashed away in his leather satchel is the letter from Tommy that the teen had written nearly a month prior, a desperate plea before walking into what he thought was his certain demise. His death had just merely been delayed; Tommy and Tubbo--and everybody, for that matter--had deluded themselves into thinking that Dream was sealed away for good, that the pair had managed to emerge victoriously from the scruffle. Their naivety makes the pinkette want to laugh: if there’s one thing he knows about Dream, it’s that the masked man almost always holds the cards to winning any game he plays, an ace hidden up in his sleeve or a backup plan lying in wait, ready to be executed. 

When he’d first gotten the news from Ranboo, the way that the enderman hybrid had dropped it onto him so casually and dismissively, Techno wasn’t sure if the taller man had been joking or not. It wasn’t until he’d forced out a dry chuckle and a “good one, Ranboo” had the monochrome hybrid twisted his shirt nervously, before clarifying it wasn’t a joke at all. And he’d stood there, frozen, unsure how to react to Ranboo breaking Sam’s news to him, before letting out a sigh of disappointment and frustration, the sentiment following him as he traversed the hellish expanse of Nether, walking along the obsidian-and-cobblestone paved paths, a tinge of inexplicable sadness following him around like a raincloud. 

It wasn’t sadness really he felt towards Tommy’s death--in his “heart of hearts” as the blonde had liked to word it--he had seen this coming a long time ago. Tommy was far too confrontational and aggressive to keep himself out of trouble for very long. And it wasn’t the first death Techno had seen, far from it. If he mourned the death of everybody he’d even remotely cared about, the Blood God’s heart would have fractured and splintered decades ago, before he even came to know Wilbur and Tommy. But there’s just such a bitter, acrid sense of disappointment as he looks upon Tommy’s grave as if the teen should’ve done more, done better, done something to try to cling to life.  _ Is this really the full extent of your determination to live, Theseus? _

Their relationship was strained at best, and at the worst of times, it wouldn’t be uncommon to find the blonde and the piglin hybrid staring each other down from opposite sides of the battlefield. Virtually any conflict they’d engaged in resulted in Techno’s victory: after all, what’s a mere child’s tactics compared to that of a timeless deity? He’s had centuries to hone and sharpen his skills; it would be beyond idiotic to try and challenge him in a game of wits or brawn.

And yet.

And yet, that didn’t stop the boy from picking himself up, just to try over and over again. As foolish as it seemed, Tommy would always bounce back somehow, even when he was beaten down by his adversaries. Picking himself up, dusting the dirt off his signature red-and-white shirt, ignoring the scrapes and bruises, only to fall once more. It was an oddly endearing--and rather annoying--trait of his. Their personalities might not have meshed well together, but just as Tommy had admired Techno’s so-called efficacy, Techno had always begrudgingly respected his determination and his inability to lie down and accept defeat.  _ Kid’s got spunk in spades, that’s for sure. _

What exactly is he doing here?

Tommy hated Logstedshire, he’s certain of it. On the few occasions Techno had taken him out with him, the blonde had dreaded revisiting the place of his exile. And looking at the cross again, it’s made of smooth stone, not the cracked, rough cobblestone Tommy had loved to construct his towers with. 

“Did they really know him at all?” He mutters under his breath. None of his favorite things are here: not the discs, not a testament to any of the pets he’d kept and raised, not even so much as a nod to his friendship with Tubbo. Even Ghostbur of all people knew how much the former president meant to him, giving Tommy his half of the set of compasses that were so intricately crafted and cut. The thought of it makes his heart sting a bit: Tommy never got the closure he needed, did he? And did Tubbo even know what really happened? According to Ranboo, the brunette was still in a state of disbelief and denial, trying to stall the inevitable wave of grief that would soon sweep over him. And who was Techno to criticize the ex-president for his coping methods, seeing as all he did was try to do something--anything--to keep his own heartache at bay?

With a long suffering sigh, Techno kneels in front of the tombstone, awkwardly stooping over to rest his forehead against the grainy grey. It rubs gratingly against his snout, but he can’t be arsed to care too much. Once upon a time, he might’ve protested getting his fine-sown dress pants dirty, or made a face at the idea of his furred cape scraping against the bare ground.

If only those were his greatest problems now.

“You just had to and get yourself killed, didn’t you Tommy?” Techno asks, almost pleadingly. “Couldn’t you have stayed alive for Tubbo or Ranboo’s sake, if not your own? Or even Wilbur’s?”  _ Or mine? _ The last question isn’t uttered aloud, but the sentiment is still there all the same.

“You’d won, goddamnit!” He’s nearly yelling, floppy ears hanging down in distress, his broad frame quivering with anger and resentment. “Why couldn’t you just stand back and let somebody else push in their blade for that final kill once in your life? Why, Theseus, why?”

The last words are barely louder than a whisper, as he closes his eyes, rain lightly beginning to fall until it picks up. He’s drenched and the soft dirt beneath his legs is slowly turning into mushy mud, and yet he stays. Kneeling. As if he stays there longer enough, maybe something’ll happen, whether it be Tommy’s resurrection or the hybrid’s heart turning to stone. 

Tommy. The boy who’d sit with him for hours upon end, listening to him recite tales upon tales, all the while inserting his own colorful commentary in. Who had sat on the sidelines so eagerly, cheering both him and Wilbur on in their practice matches and bouts. Who’d cried for ages when his first pet fish died because he couldn’t stomach the idea of the loss of life. Who’d always greet Techno so eagerly and brashly, even if they hadn’t seen each other for months upon end. Who’d looked at him with heartbroken eyes streaked with tears as Techno razed the country he’d loved so much to the ground. Tommy, one of the only people he’d cared about, and now he was gone, without ever getting say farewell. 

Why couldn’t he keep himself out of trouble, just once?

  
  



End file.
